Marlow, taking advantage of Bugler’s helplessness, landed a right and left to his pudgy jaws, then fell back, sobbing. In a few minutes he went quietly from the room.
Stallings stopped his babbling to look on with grim satisfaction, then continued.
“Bugler got me into all of it. He suggested putting Helen in the asylum and substituting another girl who looked like her. He had some hold on Doctor Patterson and arranged with him to keep my wife drugged. I was crazy to agree to it, but I didn’t mean any real harm to Helen.”
Shayne interrupted harshly, “Not so fast, Doctor Patterson. You might cut yourself if you try to go through that window.”
Peter Painter echoed his words. “Not so fast, Doctor Patterson. Cover him there, you men.” With Bugler shackled, one of the officers stepped over to Patterson and shoved him back in his chair.
Stallings went on. “I meant to have Helen released after I had time to straighten out the estate. Then last night when I called Bugler he said for me not to worry, that he’d take care of everything. But, God! I didn’t know what he meant. I swear I didn’t. I thought he was just going to get hold of her and keep her quiet. I wrote that kidnap note thinking to take advantage of the situation and implicate Shayne as an election trick. But I’m not guilty of murder. I swear I’m not.” He sank into a chair, bereft of all his splendid dignity.
“I guess it was Bugler, all right.” Shayne turned to Painter. “That sanitarium Mother Hubbard could have got into his car a lot of ways. And I just happened to remember that I saw his chauffeur run into the bridge abutment this evening. He must’ve been drunk. You’ll probably find him sleeping it off now.”
Painter strutted forward and commanded, “Take Stallings and Patterson into custody along with Bugler.”
“One other thing,” Shayne said, turning to Stallings. “Your maid, Lucile. It might interest Mr. Painter to know he’ll find her in the padded cell recently vacated by the Duchess.”
Painter whirled to face Shayne. “Maid? Duchess?”